Destiny versus Decision
by phix27
Summary: We all know that fateful scene in Malfoy Manor where Draco and Harry scuffle with the wands.  But what if Draco had asked to go with Harry and Harry had, in fact, taken him?
1. Malfoy Manor

Malfoy Manor looked the same as it always did to anyone who passed by- not that anyone did. There were several Muggle-repelling spells on the Manor, in order to keep the filth away. Even wizards didn't go near the place, unless they were of the same affiliation as the Malfoys. And everyone in the Wizarding World knew what affiliation that was.

However, if anyone had bothered to walk by on this particular day, they would have noticed four new people and one goblin walking in to the Manor. Or well, not so much walking as being dragged, carried and forced into the Manor. Unfortunately for those five, no one was watching. No one, that is, except Draco Malfoy.

Draco was standing in his bedroom, gazing out the giant picture window that looked out onto the drive. He used to hate this view; he'd always wanted his bedroom to look out onto the garden. Draco, as plebian as it might sound, loved nature. He supposed he might like to plant things, but his mother would never let him get his hands dirty, so he'd never tried. Instead he just admired plants from afar. But today, he was never happier than this moment that his window looked over the drive. Because, as he watched the snatchers approach with captives in hand, Draco knew exactly who was coming. The Golden Trio.

His palms began to sweat and he hastily rubbed them on his trousers. He wasn't quite sure why exactly he was so excited about the three of them being here. He knew that partially, it was because if they delivered Potter to the Dark Lord, his family would be alright. And family was everything. But… there was something else. Something he didn't even dare to acknowledge.

"Draco!" his mother called. "We need you! Hurry!"

Taking a deep breath, Draco crossed the room and opened the door. "Coming mother," he said as he headed downstairs. Entering the drawing room, his father approached him and put an arm around his shoulder. Touching wasn't something normally done in his family, so that was an immediate tip-off that something was desperately on the line.

"Draco," his father said. "We need you to identify this boy. Is it Potter?" His father pulled him over to the hearth. The boy was shaggy haired, dirty and in a bad need of a shave, but there was no mistaking that the face upon which he gazed was Harry Potter. Albeit a very puffy faced one. Who had done that, he wondered. Granger, possibly, hoping to save her friend. However, Draco would know that face anywhere, no matter how deformed. Especially those eyes. So bright, so green and right now, they were full of defiance and fear.

He gazed into those lovely emerald eyes, almost daring him to give him away. Potter had to know that he knew. No doubt he expected Draco to give him away- after all, their whole history would suggest that would be his course of action. After all, who would choose a most hated rival over family, fame, the Dark Lord? But… something stopped him. "I- I can't be sure."

"Come now Draco, look closer. Surely you must know…" Draco heard the weedling, subtle pleading tones in his father's voice.

"I don't know," he said, pulling away from his father and moving over to the other side of the room. He avoided looking at anyone, especially Weasley and Granger. He watched what happened next with dead, disinterested eyes. Those were the eyes he wore on a daily basis now. In fact… the only time he could remember feeling alive was when he looked into Potter's just a moment before. But that was silly, a fluke, not something worth considering.

So he watched with his usual eyes as the sword was discovered, as Aunt Bella went mental (as usual) and Granger was tortured. He watched this all with glass eyes, corpse eyes.

Yet, if anyone had been watching, they would have noticed the subtle difference in his eyes when Potter burst into the room. They went from cold ice to quicksilver, from dead to alive. Reanimation, although no one was looking at him.

Draco pulled out his wand, out of reflex. Watched his Aunt Bella threaten Granger, watched Potter and Weasley drop their wands. He walked over and picked up their wands, holding them gingerly and looked at them curiously. This wasn't Potter's wand. He'd seen it enough to know. But where was… The mystery of Potter's wand captivated him so much that he'd failed to notice the action going on around him. He looked up and caught those eyes, those beautiful, animated green eyes.

That look said a thousand words, a thousand feelings. It said all the fear that both of them felt in that moment, all the things they would never say out loud to anyone. And, from both of them, it was a plea. A plea from Potter- to give him back the wands, to save them. Draco didn't even know what his plea was and he didn't wish to think about it.

And then the fighting began again. Weasley and Granger were running together, falling into each other's arms. Potter was running for him. Draco's heart beat faster, but not from fear, from some unknown emotion.

Draco stumbled back, fist clenched around the wands. He didn't know what was going on, didn't know what was happening. Potter was upon him, wrestling with him for the wands. Draco's hands were too sweaty; the wands were slipping away… And then Potter had them.

He made a wild grasp for Potter and grabbed his arm. Potter turned to look at him, eyes almost quizzical. Draco knew what his plea was now. He whispered: "Take me with you. Please."

Potter looked even more confused but grabbed Draco's hand. And then they were running, colliding with his old house elf Dobby, the goblin and the other two. His Aunt threw something- he couldn't see what- and then they were gone in a flash, Draco's hand clasped safely inside Harry Potter's.


	2. The Grave, the Goblin and the Plan

The landed roughly, Potter sprawling on top of Draco, somehow. He gasped for air as his senses were flooded. He heard Potter's raspy breathing and was that the sea? He smelled salt water, so they must be somewhere near the coast… He felt Potter's weight lift off him and heard him shout. Draco sat up, and for a moment he was quite disoriented, but his eyes quickly focused and he took in the sight of Potter holding his former house elf and screaming for help. What the hell… oh.

Grey eyes widened as they took in the silver knife protruding from the small chest. So that's what Aunt Bellatrix had thrown. He looked up at the house elf's face, into those wide eyes and watched as, with a small shudder, Dobby breathed his last. His eyes, instead of being fixated on the morbid scene like they'd been when Dumbledore passed, moved up to Potter. A wave of some unknown feeling passed through him and, without quite knowing what he was doing, Draco moved until he was behind his rival. Arms went around a waist- too thin, he was much too thin- and legs enclosed the shorter ones on either side. Slowly, oh so slowly, and gently, he began rocking the three of them back and forth.

"Hush, it's alright," he whispered, resting his head on Potter's shoulder. "Hush, hush."

Draco had no idea how often he repeated that mantra, but it was long enough for Potter to stop muttering the elf's name, long enough for the others- three he recognized vaguely, one he did not- to come upon them and stand over them. He started- it was not often he forgot to be careful now- and attempted to remove his arms from around Potter, but the other boy stopped him. Draco removed his head from his shoulder however, but began stroking with one thumb, gently, against his stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, really.

He felt a stab of guilt about what happened to Granger, but really, it wasn't his fault. As if anyone would willingly step in to be tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. That was so absurd he almost laughed out loud, but that definitely didn't fit the situation, and so far he was good at being unnoticed.

As the others milled around him, Draco attempted to pull away again, but Potter stopped him. "Don't, please," he whispered. "I need… I need…"

"Hush," Draco said, pulling the smaller boy closer to his chest. Hush seemed to be the word of the day.

They sat there longer and Potter, probably unknown to him, was shaking gently. Draco began to rock them again, slowly, and continued rubbing his thumb over his stomach lightly. Potter spoke after a while, expressing his wish to dig a grave. By hand. Draco blinked and finally released Potter as the scarred redhead man brought the requested spade. Draco stood and dusted sand off his pants. He looked around, trying to decide what to do, where to go next, when Potter grabbed his arm.

"Stay," the brunette whispered. "Please. Just a while longer."

And, without thinking about it, Draco nodded. Yes.

Potter hesitated before asking quietly, "Would you… hold.."

Silently, Draco held out his arms. Relief flashed across the other's face before he lifted the small body and set it into his arms. Sinking to the ground, he cradled the almost child-like body against his chest as Potter began to dig. How long they sat out there, Draco didn't know. All he knew was that there was something mesmerizing about the way Potter's muscles moved as he dug and the rhythm of his steady breathing. Eventually Weasley and- was it Thomas?- came and helped. When they deemed the hole deep enough, they allowed Draco to lower the body in gently. He stood and moved back, farther than the others, because he was the odd one out, the one that wasn't wanted.

As Loony Lovegood said a few words, Potter came up to stand beside him. Draco looked at him curiously and, cautiously, rested a hand on his back, offering some small comfort. Potter sighed and leaned into him, to which Draco stood by awkwardly, not sure how to react. The others moved away with gentle pats to Potter's back and a curious look at him after the grave was filled.

Potter moved away and Draco stood by awkwardly, not sure what to do. He picked up a stone and moved it to the head of the grave, then silently began carving words into it. Draco waited, silently, until he was finished, then offered his hand. Potter, after a moment of hesitation, took it and they walked hand in hand to the small, shell covered cottage.

Once inside, Draco quickly dropped the other's hand and stood awkwardly in the doorway. He wasn't wanted here, didn't fit in. He'd known this from the beginning, and it was only reinforced by the fact that he had no idea what the others were talking about. Yet something was keeping him here. Maybe the lack of a wand, but something… something else. He didn't know where else he'd go anyway. Might as well stay with the Golden Trio. At least then he'd be… somewhat safe.

He'd been so lost in thought that he didn't realize what was going on, until Potter called his name. "Malfoy!" he said. "This way. You're coming too." Blinking, his feet seemed to move for him. Even as Weasley and Granger gave the two of them weird looks, his eyes were fixated on Potter.

They climbed the stairs- the scarred Weasley, Potter, himself, Weasley, Granger. Potter and Granger sat in chairs by the bed. The scarred one went off to fetch… well honestly, Draco didn't know. Granger sat on the chair, the other Weasley- Ron, he supposed he should call him, so he didn't get confused- sat on the air. Potter remained standing and, with lack of something better to do, Draco stood against the wall. He observed quietly as the goblin- so that was what was happening- was brought in and laid on the bed. The conversation was mediocre and seemed of no real importance to Draco until-

"I need to break into a Gringotts vault."

Grey eyes widened in curiosity. And his aunt's vault too. "You're mad," he said quietly. The smaller boy turned to look at him and green eyes met grey. "You're mad," Draco repeated again, this time a little louder. "My aunt will kill you if she ever… besides, Death Eaters run Gringotts. You can't just waltz in and ask to go into a vault not your own. Especially not…" his eyes flickered up to the famous scar for a brief moment "you."

"I know Malfoy," his rival said with a sarcastic twist of his lips. "That's why you're going to help me. Help us."


End file.
